


Your Place In My Soul

by kopperblaze



Series: Fortunes [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bachelor Party, Comfort, Drunk Antics, Fluff, M/M, Newt is adorable, alcohol consumption, emotional drunk talks, hangovers, percival gets sappy, stag do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9775481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: They’d taken over the Raunchy Leprechaun for Percival’s stag do; not that Percival had ever agreed to, or expressed a wish for a bachelor party. Rather, Theseus and Tina had insisted that it was necessary, and Percival knew better than to argue with the two of them.The one where Newt gets drunk, Percival gets emotional, and Theseus gets traumatised repeatedly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You all know me, I'm about the HURT/comfort. This is more hurt/COMFORT/FLUFF and I don't know how I feel about that /o\ I hope you enjoy it! :) Comments and Kudos are, as always, hugely appreciated <3
> 
> Title is from Brian Fallon's song "Mojo Hand"

* * *

“To the bossman!”

The aurors cheered and Percival smiled, raising his bottle of beer in a toast before taking a swig. He’d started transforming his drinks into water a while back—at the rate his aurors kept plying him liquor he’d be on the ground with alcohol poisoning by now otherwise.

They’d taken over the Raunchy Leprechaun for Percival’s stag do; not that Percival had ever agreed to, or expressed a wish for a bachelor party. Rather, Theseus and Tina had insisted that it was absolutely necessary, and Percival knew better than to argue with the two of them.

By now his department were well into their cups and Percival watched from his place at the bar as Abernathy pulled Tina onto the makeshift dancefloor. Her cheeks were red and she laughed freely as he spun her around.

The atmosphere in the pub was happy and carefree and Percival took another sip of his water, not even pretending that he was grumpy about having been dragged here anymore. It was nice, knowing that all these people had come to celebrate with him. It showed that after everything, his aurors still had his back. Grindelwald had come close to destroying that, and Percival found himself infinitely glad that he hadn’t given up, but instead, worked on repairing the relationship with his team.

“Director.” Julia Karmenschek grinned up at Percival and put a shot down on the bar next to him. Its violent green colour and the steam rising from it didn’t look too appealing. “Here’s to your marital bliss,” she said and raised her own shot in a toast. “And to me winning 20 bucks because Cafeteria Carmen really did cry when she heard.”

“What?” Percival asked, sniffing the shot dubiously. It had a distinctive aroma of apples. Clicking the glass against Karmenschek’s, Percival waited for her to throw her head back as she drank, vanishing his own with a silent spell in the meantime.

“Carmen. You know. The cafeteria lady?”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Percival rolled his eyes. “Should we have invited her?”

“Merlin, boss, now you’re sounding like Grindelgraves,” Karmenschek’s eyes widened. “Do you want to make that poor woman bawl?”

“What? Why? I thought she cried because she wasn’t invited?” Percival frowned. The social aspect of his job wasn’t always his strong suit. Judging by the way Karmenschek stared at him, the corners of her lips twitching, he’d drawn the wrong conclusions.

“She cried because MACUSA’s most eligible bachelor is off the market.” She spoke slowly, like Percival was some sort of imbecile.

“Carmen has a crush on Newt?” Percival sat up a little straighter. That woman better keep her hands to herself or else-

“Merlin’s sack, how can such a brilliant man be so dense?” Karmenschek groaned and Percival narrowed his eyes.

“Watch it, I can still put your name down for the public forum for the next year.”

Karmenschek rolled her eyes and waved her empty glass at the bartender. “No, Carmen is Team Graves. Elizabeth from Wand Permits is Team Newt.”

Percival raised an eyebrow.

“You two really have been splitting MACUSA in half.” Karmenschek laughed and took the drink from the bartender with a brilliant smile and a flick of her hair.

“My apologies,” Percival chuckled and clasped her shoulder. “I hope we didn’t make you cry.”

Karmenschek snorted. “Please, as if. I’m not into the tall and brooding type.”

Percival’s gaze drifted to the bartender, a wizard who had one of those Irish faces that made it impossible to guess his age, his accent lilting and melodic. Looking back at Karmenschek, Percival found that a subtle blush had risen in her cheeks, intensifying when he grinned at her.

“Oh stop it,” she muttered and knocked back her drink before pulling Percival into a hug, almost making him lose his balance on the barstool. Once he’d regained his balance somewhat, Percival patted her back.

“Really, we’re all very happy for you.” When she pulled back her smile was a little wobbly and Percival couldn’t resist tweaking her earlobe. She was a grown woman, one of his best and brightest, but Percival still remembered her at eighteen, the fledging of the department. She’d been eager to please, quiet and well-mannered and Percival was never going to forget the looks of utter astonishment on the other auror’s faces as she had wiped the floor with Heberforth in her first duell training.

Karmenschek battered his hand away and pulled a face. “Honestly, though,” she said, her smile gentling. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“Thank you.” Percival smiled before rolling his eyes. “And now go get talking to that poor man before he starts poisoning my drinks!”

Karmenschek giggled and bounded to the other side of the bar, attracting the attention of the bartender immediately. With a shake of his head, Percival finished his water, content to lean back and watch his team, happy and carefree, as they danced, and laughed, and drank the night away. In their line of work they never knew if all of them would come together like this again. All it took was one second for everything to change and they were all aware of that, having lost comrades and friends in the field.

“Oi, boss!” Heberforth waved enthusiastically at Percival. “Your bride is here!”

Percival’s warning glare was lost on the auror, who’d already turned away again and pulled Theseus into a crushing hug. Queenie beamed and waved at Percival, before she was helped out of her coat by - oh Merlin. They’d brought Jacob along. Percival put a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t his problem. Not if he pretended to know nothing.

Before he had a chance to further lament the trials and hardships of his life, someone stumbled into him.

“Hello.”

Percival let his hand drop away from his eyes, revealing Newt beaming at him. He looked windswept and happy, a sparkling headband, that Percival thought he recognised as Queenie’s, perched askew on his head. Percival leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. “Hello, you. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes,” Newt _giggled_ , and Percival’s eyebrows shot up. That was a new sound to add to his catalogue of noises his fiance made. Percival spread his legs further to accommodate Newt between them when he swayed on his feet and put his hands on Percival’s knees to steady himself.

“They took me to a burlesque show,” Newt whispered, tilting forward and resting his cheek against Percival’s. “There were a lot of half-naked women, Percy.”

“Poor you,” Percival laughed and rubbed Newt’s back. Of course Theseus would’ve come up with something like that.

“It did remind me of the mating dance of the slindelswings,” Newt slurred and went on to explain the similarities between a burlesque show and the slindelswings’ mating dance. Percival nodded and “hmmm”ed in appropriate intervals while helping Newt out of his coat, sending it to the cloakroom with a flick of his hand. Instead of his usual outfit, Newt wore black slacks and a white dress-shirt today. It had been crips earlier tonight, but by now it was wrinkled and half-hanging out of his slacks. Percival hooked his fingers under Newt’s suspenders and pulled him close with a smile when the redhead was about to go into a demonstration of how that mating dance worked. Newt’s attention was quickly redirected to a witch passing by, carrying a drink that changed colour and had sparkling cocktail umbrellas sticking out of it.

“I want one of those!” Newt beamed at the goblin behind the bar, who’d taken over for the lad who was still deep in conversation with Karmenschek.

Percival huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around Newt’s waist to steady him. “Maybe you should have a glass of water instead.”

“No,” Newt shook his head and put his hands on Percival’s cheeks, framing his face. “I want sparkly umbrellas.”

“Stop making out! You’ve scared me enough for five lifetimes already!”

Percival rolled his eyes. “We’re not making out, Theseus.”

“But you were _thinking_ about it,” Theseus said, wagging a finger in front of Percival’s face. “Oh, look, Newt! Sparkly umbrellas!”

Maybe the Scamanders were somehow related to nifflers, with their love for glittering things. Percival still remembered the sparkly suit jacket Theseus had worn to a christmas party in their last year at the auror academy. It was impossible to forget that monstrosity.

Newt let go off Percival’s face when his cocktail arrived, daintily taking a sip through the straw. “It’s nice. Strawberry.”

“Oh, lemme try.” Some of the drink sloshed out of the glass as Theseus took it from Newt, taking a swig rather than a sip. Newt giggled again and plucked a pink, sparkly umbrella from the drink and put it behind Percival’s ear.

“Aw, Percy, aren’t you the prettiest doll around.”

At least Percival was used to the sound of Theseus giggling, having witnessed his friend’s drunk escapades often enough.

“He’s always the prettiest,” Newt declared, clumsily patting Percival’s cheek. “And the handsomest and the bravest and the bestest.” With a content sigh Newt wrapped his arms around Percival’s neck, resting his head against Percival’s shoulder.

“I love you too.” Percival pulled Newt a little closer while gesturing for the goblin to bring them a glass of water.

“I love you both,” Theseus declared and put his arms around them, spilling half of Newt’s cocktail on Percival.

“Merlin’s sake, Theseus-”

“I love you both!” Theseus repeated, unperturbed by Percival trying to elbow him away. Eventually he let go and Percival breathed a sigh of relief, casting a spell to clean the spilt drink from his shirt.

“You!” Theseus stabbed a finger against Percival’s chest. “Are not drunk enough!” Before he could protest, Theseus disappeared behind the bar, leaving Percival with a sense of resignation. There was no stopping Theseus on a mission.

Against his shoulder, Newt was humming to himself, swaying lightly to whatever song was on his mind.

“Hey baby, have a drink c’mon,” Percival coaxed Newt to lift his head and held the glass of water to his lips. Newt drank deeply, his throat bobbing when he swallowed. He kept his eyes locked with Percival’s the entire time.

“Alright?” Percival asked, putting the empty glass down and tracing his thumb over Newt’s bottom lip, catching a few stray drops of water.

“Mhm,” Newt nodded and leaned in, crashing his lips against Percival’s. Someone behind them cheered. Another giggle bubbled past Newt’s lips and he bumped his nose against Percival’s.

“Ew, stop it, you’re not married yet.”

Blinking owlishly Newt turned to face Theseus. “You do know that we have plenty of sex, right?”

A sound reminiscent of an enraged erumpet left Theseus’ throat. “No! I don’t want to hear about this. No!” He shook his head violently before he turned to glare at Percival, pointing an accusing finger at him. “See what you’ve done to my innocent baby brother?”

“Oh he’s done plenty of-”

Percival silenced Newt with a hand over his mouth before he could give Theseus even more reason for dramatics. “Weren’t you going to get us a drink?” he asked, desperate for a change of topic.

“Right, of course. Look!” Theseus held up a bottle of Odgen’s Finest. He took a swig before handing it to Percival. As the whiskey burnt it’s way down to his stomach Percival fleetingly thought that this was a very bad idea.

***

“Pink looks good on you, Mister Graves.” Queenie sidled up to them and shook her head when Theseus held the bottle of Odgen’s —now only a little more than half full— out to her.

“I think that’ll suit you better.” Percival plucked the umbrella from behind his ear and pushed it into Queenie’s curls, squinting a little. The air in the pub felt thicker than before, hazier. Gaze drifting over Queenie’s shoulder, Percival found Jacob looking at them, a fond smile blooming on his face when Queenie laughed in delight. Percival didn’t know much about the no-maj except for the fact that he made delicious pastries his department was prone to squabble over, turning Percival into an unwilling referee for their fights over the last demiguise brioche. But Percival knew that anyone who looked at Queenie like this, with a mix of pride, disbelief, adoration and, well, love, was a friend of his, statue of secrecy be damned.

“Did you give Percival his gift already?” Queenie winked and Newt stood bolt upright.

“No, I haven’t!” He patted the pockets of his trousers while Theseus leaned against Percival, their shoulders pressing together.

“You’re going to love this.” Theseus held out the whiskey. “Trust me.”

It was never a good idea to trust Theseus, but Percival took a swig anyway, praying that Newt hadn’t gotten him some kind of beast and was about to release it in the middle of the Raunchy Leprechaun.

“Look!”

Percival blinked and thought that even without the alcohol in his system he probably would’ve needed a second to comprehend what he was seeing. Newt was holding a box up to his face and in that box was a ring, although it took Percival a moment to recognise it as such. The silver was shaped like a frog with its mouth open, as if it was about to catch flies. On its back sat glittering blue stones surrounded by uneven patches of gold.

“I got you a ring!” Newt beamed and Theseus’ shoulders shook where he leaned against Percival. “Well, Theseus found it, but,” Newt shrugged.

“You did,” Percival drawled. “It’s...very unique.”

Theseus gasped for air and Queenie elbowed his side. “I think it’s very sweet.”

The longer Percival’s silence lasted the more Newt’s face fell and his smile faltered. “You don’t like it.”

“What? No!” Percival took Newt’s wrist when he pulled his hand back. “I love it. Really.” He fumbled the ring from the box and put it on his finger, jerking in surprise when the frog croaked. “See, it fits perfectly!”

Slowly, but surely, Newt’s smile returned. Percival pushed Theseus away when the man started laughing again.

“It’s _beautiful_ and I love it because you got it for me,” Percival declared. Any gift from Newt he appreciated, and Theseus’ stupid laughter only fueled Percival’s determination to show his appreciation. He pulled Newt close and kissed him, satisfied when Theseus squawked in indignation.

***

With every sip of whiskey Percival lost track of time more and more. It could’ve been hours or minutes later that found him and Theseus slumped next to each other at a table, watching Newt and Tina on the dancefloor. Newt’s face was flushed, strands of his hair plastered to his forehead. His smile shone across the room as he gestured wildly and demonstrated the steps of whatever dance they were doing to Tina again.

“Is that the sindel-swingsel-slindelswings dance?” Percival’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, making it tricky to shape the words.

“Mh.” Theseus head lolled onto Percival’s shoulder. “No. ‘s the hippogriff. He’s gonna try ‘n teach it to you too.”

“Don’t dance,” Percival reminded Theseus.

“You will for Newt,” Theseus declared and tilted his head, his eyes almost crossing as he looked up at Percival. “You’d do everything for Newt.”

“‘S true.”

“I know. I mean...you’re wearing a frog ring.” Theseus laughed and Percival squinted at his hand and wiggled his fingers, making the frog sparkle and croak.

“I wanted to get you a pineapple shaped one.”

That drew a groan from Percival. “We’re not talking about that.”

“What? Why?” Theseus’ laugh was sleepy. “Good old times. You didn’t look half-bad in that dress either.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really. That Russian guy totally thought you were some awkward ladyboy.”

“We’re not talking about that.”

“Well, I am talking about it, so beat it.”

Percival reached up and patted Theseus’ cheek, both of them breaking into embarrassing giggles as the frog croaked again.

“I’m really glad you’re marrying my brother.”

“I’m really glad I’m marrying your brother too.” Percival’s gaze drifted through the room until it settled on Newt, who was currently downing a shot of something disturbingly blue with Heberforth. One of his suspenders hung down over his shoulder and the top buttons of his wrinkled shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up. His laugh came easy and Percival’s lips twitched in reaction to it, his heart ready to burst with love.

“No, really.” Theseus put his hands on Percival’s shoulders and spun him around. “I’m really glad that it’s you marrying my brother.” Theseus slurred, looking Percival in the eyes.

“Because you’re...you’re one of my best friends and you’re a good man and you’ll look after him and even though you’re stupid a lot of the time you’re also really smart and you make Newt happy.”

Warmth flooded Percival’s chest. “Newt is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admitted. “I won’t ever let anything happen to him, I promise.”

Theseus fell against Percival and wrapped his arms around him. “I love you, mate.”

All of a sudden Percival’s vision felt a little blurry and he returned Theseus’ hug, nearly causing both of them to fall out of their chairs. “I love you too.”

“You’re gonna be my brother-in-law!”

“I know!”

“Are we interrupting something?”

Percival blinked his eyes open and tried to glare at Tina. She only grinned wider, making him think that he had most likely failed miserably.

“We’re having a manly moment here, Tina.” Theseus huffed, though he let go off Percival.

“Yes, I can see that. If you can bear to leave Theseus’ embrace, your fiance would like to dance with you.”

Tina was far too sober and Percival took the bottle of Odgen’s from the table and pressed it into her hands before struggling to his feet.

“This is empty,” he heard Tina say behind him but decided that that was not his problem, attention already captured by Newt looking his way. Percival bumped into a table and briefly wondered who’d pushed it into his way, before he was pulled into Newt’s arms.

“Hello,” Newt said and Percival kissed the sensitive skin beneath Newt’s ear.

“I heard something about you wanting to dance?”

Newt nodded and Percival straightened up again, pressing a kiss to the tip of Newt’s nose. “Whatever you want.” Newt never asked for much and everything he did ask for Percival was more than willing to give.

A slow song was playing and Percival thanked Merlin for that, fairly certain his stomach wasn’t going to agree with too much movement. They fell into position naturally, Percival’s hands on Newt’s hips and Newt’s arms crossed behind Percival’s back. What they did was swaying rather than dancing and people were watching them, but Percival didn’t care, caught in the depths of Newt’s eyes.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yes.” Newt’s fingers idly stroked over Percival’s neck. The touch sent shivers down Percival’s spine and he tightened his hold on Newt, bringing them flush together.

“I’m glad I didn’t bring Pickett though,” Newt mused. His eyes were heavily-lidded and his hair even wilder than usual. It was their party, so people would surely notice if they left, which was a pity. Percival wanted nothing more than to take Newt home right now.

“I don’t think a burlesque club is appropriate for bowtruckles. He might’ve gotten traumatized,” Newt continued, his eyes widening at the prospect. “It’s not their natural habitat, you know.”

“I love you so much,” Percival blurted, drawing a surprised grin from Newt. “You’re the best, most wonderful person I know and sometimes I think I’m going to burst because you make me feel so many things.” He wasn’t one to babble, but somehow Percival wasn’t the master of his own body anymore, mouth going without his input or permission. “Sometimes it scares me, how much I love you. And how good things are. Like I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. But even if that happened, I wouldn’t regret a thing because every moment with you is a gift.”

“Why would another shoe drop? There will be no shoe dropping,” Newt declared and leaned his forehead against Percival’s. “I love you too. Lots. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Percival huffed. He had no idea if the song had ended and another already started, or

“I’m a little dizzy.” Newt sighed after a while.

“Are you going to hurl?”

“Mh-mh,” Newt shook his head.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Percival pecked Newt’s lips and led him back to their table, where Theseus was still slumped in his chair. Next to him Tina looked longsuffering.

“What’s with the face, Goldstein?” Percival chuckled. He poured Newt a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, spilling half of it onto the table.

“I just had to listen to a sappy speech about how perfect you two are,” Tina huffed.

“Do you disagree?” Percival grinned.

“No. But he actually cried,” Tina sighed while Theseus shrugged. He met Percival’s eyes, pointed to Tina and rolled his eyes.

“I saw that!”

“Saw what?” Theseus asked, attempting to look innocent but just managing to pull a grimace.

Percival got Newt to sip some water and leaned back in his chair, his own head spinning a little. The party was winding down, Queenie and Jacob and Heberforth and Melanie from Apparation Security the only couples left on the dancefloor. Newt’s head kept falling forward further and further, his eyes closed.

“I think it’s time I got that one home,” Percival said to no one in particular and struggled to his feet.

“You’re in no shape to apparate, I hope you’re aware of that.”

“Does she even know how to have fun at all?” Theseus asked, attempting to duck away from Tina’s punch to his shoulder but leaning into it instead. “A last one, c’mon, Perce!”

Percival looked between Newt, asleep in his chair, and Theseus. The wide-eyed, lost kneazle look was another trait the Scamander brothers shared.

“One!” Percival held up two fingers and frowned, trying to fold one of them down. His hand refused to obey him, which was outrageous.

“Boss! What’s that sparkling on your finger?” O’Reiley asked and Percival turned around, thrusting his hand in the auror’s face

“It’s a frog ring,” he declared with as much dignity as he could muster. “And I got it from Newt. Isn’t it great?”

O’Reiley laughed and the frog croaked and Percival thought that his life was really, really good.

***

Life was horrible.

For a few seconds he didn’t know who he was, where he was, or what had happened. His mouth tasted foul and his head felt like it was about to explode, and even the roots of his hair felt sore. When Percival opened his eyes a bolt of pain shot through him and he squeezed them shut again.

Vague details from last night drifted back to the forefront of Percival’s mind, though he failed to reconstruct how they’d gotten home. Everything was vague and shrouded in mist after that last shot.

Were they even home? This time Percival was prepared and slowly cracked one eye open, waiting for the sharp pain to drop down to a throbbing level before opening the second. Yes, the ceiling looked like their ceiling. Percival took a few slow breaths before he pushed up onto his elbows. He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat and focused on a spot on the wall across the bed until the world around him steadied again. The light in the room was dim, the curtains drawn, and on the nightstand sat a pitcher of water, a hangover cure and a blue glass bottle Percival didn’t recognise.

He drank down the hangover cure and closed his eyes as the magic burnt through his body, instantly relieving his stabbing headache. More clear-minded and not in danger of losing the contents of his stomach anymore Percival took the note propped up on the nightstand. Unfolding it revealed Queenie’s flowing script, wishing them a good morning and explaining that the other bottle on the nightstand held painkillers, the closest no-maj’s had for hangover cure.

Percival remembered with a pang that Newt was allergic to most common potions and he instantly felt bad for his fiance. Shifting back down under the covers Percival curled around Newt, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his spine. With his hangover vanished he fell asleep easily, one arm wrapped around Newt’s middle.

***

Percival grunted and curled further into the warmth, unwilling to be pulled from the comfortable depths of sleep. Something insistently tugged on the edge of his consciousness though and Percival blinked his eyes open. His mind felt muddled and slow, like it was still caught between sleep and wakefulness.

Next to him Newt was curled into a tiny ball beneath the blankets, only a few tufts of mussed, red hair visible. The source of Percival’s sleep disturbance was revealed to be Newt whimpering quietly. His skin was cold and clammy and he shivered when Percival put a hand on his naked shoulder.

“Newt?”

The only reply was a low whine in the back of Newt’s throat as he pushed his face into the mattress.

“Not feeling good?” Percival asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

“I’m dying.” With his face still pressed into the mattress Newt’s voice came out muffled. Misery was written in the tense lines of his body and Percival felt like somebody had thrown a bucket of icy water at him, drenching him in guilt. They really should’ve remembered last night that Newt wouldn’t be able to take a potion come morning.

“You’re not dying.” Percival pulled Newt close to his chest and wormed a hand into the tangle of his limbs, gently rubbing his stomach.

“I am,” Newt moaned. His usually soft voice sounded grating and rough. He kept his eyes squeezed shut but pushed back against Percival. “Promise you’ll take care of my creatures when I’m dead.”

“I promise.” Percival kissed Newt’s shoulder. “But you won’t die today. I won’t allow it.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

Most likely Newt wouldn’t appreciate Percival cooing over him, so despite how adorable Newt’s grumpiness was, Percival kept his mouth shut.

“You don’t get to decide if I die or not.”

“Of course not,” Percival agreed, coaxing Newt to uncurl his limbs a little more. “Will you try to stay alive for my sake?”

A soft huff was the only reaction. Percival sat up against the pillows and grabbed the blue bottle from the nightstand. He shook out two pills into the palm of his hand, regarding them suspiciously, before deciding that he trusted Queenie and her fella. “Here, take these. It’s no-maj...potion.” Percival held the pills to Newt’s lips and pushed them into his mouth once his fiance stopped pouting and decided to cooperate. With a hand behind Newt’s neck Percival helped him support his head and held the glass of water to his lips, making sure he drank at least half of it.

“You’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Newt made another disgruntled noise, but turned into Percival’s side and wrapped his arms around him, head resting on Percival’s chest. His hair smelt like alcohol and smoke and Percival carded his fingers through the messy strands. His hand moved further down to rub Newt’s back, trying to warm him up.

It was quiet except for the occasional creaking of the house and Percival’s eyelids closed. He drifted for a little while, the passage of time lost to him, but he was aware of Newt’s body relaxing more and more against him, his tightly coiled muscles releasing as his breathing became even. Little tremors still wracked his body, goosebumps rising when Percival stroked his hand down Newt’s arm.

“Better?”

“Mh.” Newt gave a minimal nod against Percival’s chest.

“Let’s get you into something warmer.” Extracting himself from Newt, who was sometimes reminiscent of a squid with the way he wrapped himself around Percival, he stumbled out of bed and found that he was undressed except for his boxers and one sock. Clothes were strewn out all over the floor.

With a twitch of his fingers Percival sent the clothes to the laundry room, satisfied that the room was back in order. He retrieved Newt’s warmest pair of pajamas from the wardrobe, thinking that the fact alone that Newt had slept mostly undressed was testament to their state last night. Newt despised sleeping in the nude, claiming it was cold and uncomfortable.

Once Newt was in his pajamas and settled under an extra blanket, Percival took off the one sock he was wearing and pulled on his dressing gown, venturing downstairs. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and Percival squinted, all the more appreciative of the darkness in the bedroom. A hangover cure could only do so much and he still felt a little unsettled and sore.

The living room was shrouded in darkness as well, the quiet broken by Theseus’ occasional snoring. The man himself wasn’t visible under the mountain of blankets on the couch, but there was a hangover cure on the coffeetable set out for him. As Percival watched, Dougal wandered into the room and stopped in front of the couch, watching and listening for a second before he nodded and moved on to water the flowers. His gaze met Percival’s and his lips quirked into a smile.

“You’re my favourite,” Percival whispered and he could swear Dougal puffed up a little.

By the time Percival returned upstairs with a cup of tea Newt was fast asleep, not curled up as tightly anymore. Some colour had returned to his face and Percival sat the tea down on the bedside table and cast a stasis charm over it, figuring that it was better to let Newt rest while he took a shower. Percival’s skin felt sticky, his hair a mess and he was desperate to wash the dirty feeling away.

He couldn’t have been in the shower for more than ten minutes, but by the time Percival returned Newt was sitting up against the pillows, sipping his tea, and there was an extra blanket and an extra person in his bed.

“Are you serious?” Percival asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, glad that he’d decided to put on a loose pair of pajama pants and a wifebeater.

Over the top of the blanket Theseus glared at him. “Problem, Graves? We always stay in bed when hungover.”

An affirmative chitter came from Pickett, perched on Newt’s shoulder.

“Great,” Percival sighed, feeling like his headache was about to return.

“What? There’s room enough.”

Percival’s glare fell flat in lieu of Newt patting Percival’s side of the bed. Resigning himself to the fact that if he didn’t want to spend the day alone on the couch, he’d have to act like a teenage girl on a sleepover rather than one of the most powerful wizards in America, Percival sat down on the bed next to Newt, allowing his fiance to drape the blankets over him.

“Don’t do anything disgusting.”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I please in my own bed,” Percival shot back, taking satisfaction in the unhappy noise Theseus made. Newt patted Theseus’ head before he handed the empty mug of tea to Percival and shuffled back down under the covers with a yawn. Replacing the mug on the table Percival was stopped from settling in by Pickett climbing up on his hand. The bowtruckle inspected the ring on Percival’s finger with a frown and jumped in fright when it croaked at him. Percival shook with suppressed laughter when Pickett shook his fists at the frog.

“I’d forgotten all about that,” Newt mumbled sleepily, shifting to accommodate Theseus hooking his chin over his brother’s shoulder to see what was going on.

“Mh, guess what? I can’t take it off.” To demonstrate Percival tugged on the ring. He already saw himself trodding down to magical artifacts on Monday morning, asking them to find a counter spell for whatever sticking charm had been used.

Newt’s eyebrows furrowed but Theseus grinned.

“Oh. Looks like,” he waggled his fingers, “magic.”

Percival blinked, then grabbed a pillow and hit Theseus over the head.

***

Percival couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a day in bed, doing nothing. He had to admit that it was much more pleasant than expected, listening to Newt and Theseus speaking in hushed whispers as he drifted in and out of wakefulness.

When they started to daydream about a fish’n’chips shop down the street from Theseus’ London apartment, Percival’s stomach rumbled.

“There’s a diner offering carry-out around the corner. I vote Theseus goes,” Percival said, cracking one open.

“Good idea, I vote Percival goes,” Theseus shot back.

Between them Newt bit his bottom lip and sunk a little lower into the pillows. After a few seconds he turned his head to the left and smiled innocently. “Theseus.”

“How dare you?” Theseus pouted. “My own brother turning against me.”

Newt ducked his head and Percival couldn’t help a smug grin as he made a shooing gesture in Theseus’ direction. “Off you go. Make sure you bring back something greasy.”

When Theseus had left, not without muttering and stomping his feet, Newt shifted onto his side. The bags beneath his eyes didn’t look quite as bruised anymore and his skin was plumper with more colour to it. Percival took Newt’s hand and brought it up, pressing a kiss to the ring on his finger.

“My parents arrive tomorrow,” Newt murmured, lightly squeezing Percival’s hand.

Percival hummed, not yet wanting to leave the comfortable bubble away from reality they had created in their bedroom and consider the implications of their mothers fretting together over the finishing touches of the wedding.

“In six days I get to call you my husband.” The blush his words raised on Newt’s face was delightful and Percival rolled them over, Newt’s legs falling open easily to accommodate him between them. He pushed Newt’s fringe away from his forehead, feeling giddy and content and once more in awe that Newt was _his_.

“Are you still not telling me where we’ll go after the wedding?” Newt’s fingers idly fiddled with the hem of Percival’s shirt.

“Nope,” Percival shook his head and dipped down for a peck. He’d planned the honeymoon carefully and had selected a destination far, far away from nosy mothers and overbearing brothers. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Before Newt could protest Percival kissed him again, one of his hands cupping Newt’s cheek. Newt’s fingers pushed under Percival’s shirt, hot points of contact on his skin.

“Are you serious?! I was gone for _ten minutes_!”

Percival dropped his head in the pillows. Next to him Newt laughed.


End file.
